


The Accidental Engagement

by somethinglikegumption



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Tropes, oh so many tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2019-10-27 23:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17776121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethinglikegumption/pseuds/somethinglikegumption
Summary: Miss Elizabeth Cooper is thrilled to begin her first London Season. With balls, parties, and endless entertainment to amuse her and her new friends, she plans to enjoy every moment of her time out in society before her scheming mother can force her into marriage. During the first night of the Season, Betty crosses paths with the Duke of Pendleton, a notorious rake, and finds herself falling for the mysterious man despite the warnings of the entire ton. Can a chance meeting change both their lives forever - or will the Duke's reputation and secrets tear them apart?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I did not research this (unless you count reading a stack of historical romance novels with covers of shirtless men with various degrees of Fabio hair "research"). 
> 
> Characters will DEFINITELY be out of character from the show, there will be COUNTLESS historical inaccuracies, and you will honestly get sick of the classic romance novel tropes. I'm so excited.
> 
> Enjoy (and make sure you enjoy the [amazing graphic](https://jordansconnor.tumblr.com/post/182796862343/the-accidental-engagement-graphic-by-bugggghead) by [bugggghead](https://bugggghead.tumblr.com/)!)

The first ball of the Season always set the Cooper’s London townhouse into a frenzy of excitement. Two years before, when her sister had come out into society, she had watched through the railings of the staircase as her mother led her older sister Pollyanna to the waiting carriage, dreaming of the day she would be able to go with them.

Finally, that day had come.

With Polly married and settled at Thornhill Hall, it was Miss Elizabeth Cooper’s turn to dazzle at the best houses and parties. Her friends had told her she would be a jewel, a diamond of the first water, with her kind smile and fierce spirit, not to mention her large dowry.

She still couldn’t control the knot in the pit of her stomach. As her mother’s companions made their calls to give their advice for her debut, her anxiety for the weeks ahead only grew. Stories of fortune-hunters snaring innocent young ladies and spiriting them away to Gretna Green. Cautionary tales of reputations ruined with one private moment in a library or garden maze. All meant to keep well-bred young women such as herself within the bounds of propriety. 

Her sister’s letters had done little to dissuade her of the thoughts. She was too busy making herself miserable as the mistress of the house, trying to cater to the whims of the dowager Lady Blossom who refused to give up her rooms in the old manor house. Her husband, the Earl of Thornhill, remained silent on the matter, as he was on many other things. The newest Lady Blossom had no time to soothe her baby sister’s fears.

She absolutely could not consult her brother about it. Charles looked down on the marriage mart and the gossip of the matchmaking mamas, preferring to spend time at his club, Gentleman Jackson’s, or in Brighton with the Prince Regent who had taken a shine to him for some reason. He would most likely laugh himself into a tizzy, then tell her she would be better off living as a spinster at their country estate.

So with no reassurance and no knowledge of what to expect, Betty steeled herself for a long evening and an even longer Season ahead, pretending to be the quiet, obedient young woman her mother had trained her to be, as her maid helped her into her shoes and handed her a pair of satin gloves. 

Smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles from her white muslin gown, she exited her room and made her way down the stairs to be shepherded into a carriage by her mother, as Polly had been led just a few years ago. Betty mentally prepared for endless comments to come during the short ride.

“Sit up straight, Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth, don’t pull your gloves like that.”

“Oh Elizabeth, I wish you would have told me you were planning to wear that necklace. It clashes horribly with your coloring.”

A kind individual would say she just wanted the best for her children, as so many mothers do. A less kind person would have called Lady Cooper a social climber. But Betty just called her a nightmare, what with the weeks of preparation at the modiste, constant griping over fashion plates bearing the latest styles from France, and engaging a new dancing master to teach the waltz, just recently allowed at Almack’s. The stinging barbs she threw at her youngest child were only the latest in a long line of backhanded compliments and outright put downs.

Betty kept her face serene, knowing any emotion would only make it worse, and counted the seconds to the Earl of Rockland’s home.

Arriving at the doors, she could hear her mother muttering under her breath. Lady Cooper could not deny her daughter’s friendship with Miss Veronica Lodge, the only child of the Earl, but she could complain all she liked about having to step foot in his house. Especially when the rumors held he came about his title through questionable means. The ladies and gentlemen lining the front hall didn’t seem to mind, greeting each other with joy and remarking on the decor, the lights, how gracious the Earl was to invite them in for the first ball.

Seeing her chance, Betty left her mother behind in the crush, seeking out her friend Veronica deeper in the house.

As expected, Veronica was in the grand hall, circled by admirers both male and female. Ever since the Countess of Rockland had called at the Cooper home, her daughter in tow, Veronica had been Betty’s closest friend and confidante. Veronica was entering her second Season, and she had promised to introduce Betty to her friends at the ball.

It only took her stepping over the threshold for Veronica to break from her conversation and swiftly greet her.

“My dear Miss Cooper! You look a true English rose tonight,” Veronica said, taking Betty’s hands in hers.

“And you as well, Miss Lodge! The house looks beautiful tonight, and so many people!” Betty said with a breathless laugh. “This will be the talk of the town for weeks.”

“Absolutely not, not with you making your debut. Men will be falling at your feet, bringing you gifts and writing you sonnets,” Veronica said, pulling her back to the group. “I have a few for you to meet right now.”

Introductions were made, Betty almost instantly forgetting the names of everyone in the group. The men, at least, were easier to figure out; her dance card had grown quite full as they spoke and laughed.

When the dancing began, she found herself swept up into the arms of one Mr. Mantle, passed on to Lord Archibald Andrews, the son of a marquess, and only managed to catch her breath when the number of young ladies in the room surpassed the number of gentlemen and she was left with a blank spot on her card.

Fortunately, one of their number took her arm for a turn about the room. Josephine McCoy, “please, call me Josie!”, circled the ballroom with her, pointing out the titled gentlemen with no money, the rich gentlemen with no title, the ne’er-do-well rakes that she would do well to steer clear of, and a few possible new friends in the wallflowers currently without a dance partner.

As they returned to the group, Betty thanked Josie for her guidance and begged off to the cool air of the balcony. The stuffy rooms and crush of people had overwhelmed her, and the quiet would do her good.

It was early enough in the evening that many still remained inside; the few on the balcony were too engaged with their own conversations to take any notice of her presence. 

Except for one.

Three men stood on the far end of the balcony, smoking cheroots and laughing. She observed them cautiously, the warnings still fresh in her mind. All dark haired and handsome, her breath caught as one glanced up and met her eyes, a connection instantaneous and strong even from yards away.

He made to move toward her and she darted back inside, rather rudely pushing back to Veronica at the drinks table.

“Are you alright, Betty? You look as pale as your dress!” Following her eyes to the door, Veronica watched as the man entered, intent gaze scanning the room for his prey.

“Dear me...what _have_ you been doing this evening?” Veronica asked with a teasing leer.

Betty swallowed down a glass of punch and started towards the ladies retiring room. Veronica followed, curiosity rising.

“Who is that man?” Betty asked the moment the door closed behind them.

“You should sit for this, dearest.” Veronica sat next to her and removed her gloves, seemingly settling in for a long conversation.

“That is the Duke of Pendleton, and you should stay far away from him. His family is a bit of a scandal, what with his father gambling and drinking away all of the family’s money, running up debts across the continent before passing away and leaving the family with nothing but a rotting old estate. There is also the small matter of the Duke’s frequent disappearances from society and the House of Lords.”

“Where does he go?” Betty asked breathlessly, and Veronica only shook her head.

“No one knows. Before his father died, he was at Eton with Lord Andrews and Mr. Mantle, but he was always quiet and kept to himself. No one ever thought to ask him about anything else.”

Betty turned the newfound knowledge over in her mind. “Why would he be looking at me like that?”

“A pretty new face? The next victim? It’s rumored that he was courting Lady Antoinette Topaz and they were close to setting a date to read the banns, but he threw her over and disappeared for a year,” Veronica told her. “The title is an old one, but there’s no money in the family coffers. He might be seeking a rich wife to help ease the burden.”

At that moment, the ball of dread that had lingered throughout the evening turned into anger. She was a human being, not just her dowry and her position as a viscount’s daughter, and she would never let some fortune-hunting cad trap her into a life that was any less than what she wanted.

Betty rose in a fury, surprising Veronica almost off her seat. “Well I shan’t be the one he leaves at his estate to bear heirs while he spends my dowry money on God knows what. I swear, if he even so much as looks at me I will give him the cut direct.”

Sliding her gloves back on, Veronica smiled. “It seems you have some fire in you, Betty Cooper. Let us see if it can catch you a husband tonight!”

Betty tried to throw herself back into the evening’s festivities, but every time she turned her back, she felt the Duke’s heavy gaze following her. Whether he was attempting to catch her attention or uncover her secrets, she wasn’t sure.

As the dancing continued and she met more gentlemen than she could ever be expected to remember, she constantly felt the heat of his eyes on her. 

It was a great relief to take a moment to check on her mother, gossiping with the other ladies of her set in attendance, and be told in no uncertain terms that they would be leaving after Betty had fulfilled her next dancing obligation. 

“I prefer not to stay in this house a moment longer than I must,” Lady Cooper stated imperiously, although Betty noted her envious eyes taking in every detail, the better to redecorate their own home in the future.

With only the waltz left, already promised to a friend of her brother’s, she waited by the dance floor for her partner and counted down the moments until she could be away from those prying eyes.

The musicians began their tune and Betty’s eyes searched the room in distress. Where was her partner? She stepped up to take her place in the line, hoping he would appear, when another stepped in.

“My lady,” he said, with a regal bow.

She could only curtesy in response, the shock holding her tongue hostage as the Duke of Pendleton took her hand in his.

“We have not been properly introduced, I think,” he continued. 

Betty found her voice to rebuke him. “This is entirely untoward! This dance was promised to another, and you are - you are -“ her voice lowered to a hiss with each passing word to keep the other dancers from overhearing, but she could not think of a terrible enough word to describe the man before her.

“A rogue, a terrible rake, an absolute bounder? Trust me, my lady, I have heard them all before and you may call me whichever you wish,” he said with an angry edge to his voice. He composed himself briefly. “But what shall I call you?” He asked, a false pondering look on his face as he swept her across the floor. 

“Nothing. You shall call me nothing because we will never speak again after this dance.”

“Very well, Lady Nothing. I will find it out eventually,” with this, he glanced around the room at the matrons whispering behind their hands and the young ladies giggling, all eyes focused on the pair, “as it seems we will be the talk of the ton come calling hour tomorrow.”

Betty looked around as he turned her in his arms, noting with increasing horror just how many eyes briefly met her gaze before looking away in shame, and knew his words to be true. 

“If that is my burden to bear then I must bear it, but only so long as it takes for another scandal to come along and take its place. Until then, I shall not speak of it and you shall not tempt me to do otherwise.”

“Tempt you?” He asked with a grin. “What an interesting selection of words, Lady Nothing.”

“I am only tempted to stomp on your foot or beat you with my reticule, with how strong my loathing is for you at this moment.”

“Loathing is a passionate emotion. Are you a passionate person? Full of heat and fire?” he asked, almost matter of factly.

Only then did Betty realize how close they had gotten, in a room full of gossip mongers and sticklers for propriety. As the music drew to a close, she stepped back out of his sphere, distancing herself from the uncomfortable conversation and from him. 

He did not let her get far, his height giving him the advantage to catch up with her before she could make her escape. Grasping her elbow, he hesitated slightly before leaning in to murmur a few low words in her ear. 

“Do not let these people snuff out your fire. It truly is a lovely thing.”

With an appropriate courtly bow, he thanked her for the dance at a louder volume and went off; most likely to find some other girl to torture.

After her mother had bustled her out of the Lodge home with endless questions and some pointed criticisms about the Duke, Betty leaned against the window in the carriage, watching the lamplights guide their way home. 

Her mind kept drifting back to the Duke’s farewell. Of all the men she had met that evening, his presence stayed with her. Even with Veronica’s warning, he was the only one interesting enough to be remembered - and he had seen her, seen the fear that she would cause the next scandal or be the next young lady ruined, and known exactly what to say to relieve the tension. 

An ungloved hand came up to gently touch her neck, where his breath had impressed the words onto her skin as much as his voice had impressed them onto her memory.

Smiling a secret smile, she tucked her head onto her shoulder and closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of being truly seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are very inspiring and chapter two was already partly done, so here's a little Valentine's Day love from me to you in the form of a chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: the only thing historically accurate about this chapter is the fact that Almack's and Rotten Row actually existed. I'm calling everything else "artistic license."

As true as the Duke had said, the first caller of the morning wanted to speak of nothing but the ball at the Lodges and Elizabeth’s dance with the Duke.

Each caller brought some new piece of wisdom on his life, his family, his comings and goings, his clubs, the scandals of his past, even one particularly memorable long-winded tale about a hunting party gone awry in which the Duke and the caller were both in attendance.

As she listened and engaged in the appropriate places, Betty pondered each new piece of information with the intensity of scholars investigating the Elgin Marbles. Sorting out the truth from the fiction would be a feat of epic proportions, as the details ranged from the innocuous (Pendleton’s gardens were said to be some of the most beautiful in the country) to the insane (he dressed all in black because he rode out as a highwayman and robbed unsuspecting travelers in the middle of the night).

Still, she could not forget the pleasant side she had seen of him the night before. It remained to be seen whether that was his common state or if it was a singular occurrence, but surprisingly not many of the callers had actually spoken to the man to see for themselves. They were content to sit back and pass judgement without knowing the facts, although the Duke’s rare appearances in society may have contributed to that.

The ton had also passed judgement on her, and it seemed she had been found favorable. Flowers and notes were delivered by young men she must have spoken to but could not remember, and one of the patronesses of Almack’s left her calling card and vouchers for Betty to attend the elite rooms. Veronica had sent a servant over with an invitation to ride in the park with a small group of friends after dinner, and more invitations to balls, suppers and outings were arriving by the hour.

It was a triumph, and should have been the focus of her afternoon, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the mysterious Duke, even as she dressed in her smart lavender riding habit to visit the park.

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she almost missed the group waiting with their horses along Rotten Row. Veronica waved a handkerchief in the air to catch her eye, her fine blue riding habit setting her apart from the pale pastels of the other ladies and the dark costumes of the gentlemen in the party. Abandoning her maid, serving as chaperone, at a nearby bench in eyesight of the group, Betty let a true smile cross her face after the day’s trials.

“About time, Elizabeth!” Veronica cried from atop her mare. “It’s nearly past the fashionable hour.”

“Mother and I had ever so many callers today, we were quite busy and I had to rush to prepare. My apologies!”

“Did Jones come to pay his respects?” Mr. Mantle teased, and Betty could feel her cheeks warming as the men laughed.

“Mr. Mantle, you’ll scare her off! Leave Miss Cooper alone and come ride with me,” Veronica scolded, turning her horse and kicking her into a slow trot. Mantle followed along dutifully, Lord Andrews and Betty falling in line behind them.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Lord Andrews started, and Betty stiffened her shoulders against the thought of more prying questions. “If you do see the Duke, would you give him my regards? We were rather close at school and I’m afraid I’ve let our friendship go a bit to rot.”

Thinking of the flash of sincerity the Duke shared the night before, she turned to Lord Andrews. “I would be happy to, but have you considered you might want to try to mend it on your own? He seems quite lonely, from what I hear,” she said, peppering in her knowledge with the rumors passing through town.

“An excellent idea, Miss Cooper,” Lord Andrews replied, his ever-present jovial grin returning. “Now the question remains: are your horsemanship skills as excellent as your mind?”

With a kick of his heels, he sent his stallion into an easy gallop. Not wanting to be outdone, Betty took her reins in hand, setting her horse free to run, feeling the wind through her hair and the cool breeze on her face as she chased him down.

They remained neck and neck for the length of the race, until Andrews kicked his horse into a full gallop at the finish line and beat her mare by a nose. The congratulations of their friends and good-natured ribbing rang out through the park, before Betty’s maid waved her white handkerchief in the air, the signal that it was time to return home to prepare for the evening’s entertainments.

“Shall I see you all at Almack’s tonight? I finally received my vouchers this morning,” Betty asked.

“Where else would I be? It is my greatest pleasure to visit those stuffy rooms with watered-down lemonade and dance attendance on simpering country misses only interested in snaring a title,” Mr. Mantle remarked, hissing immediately after as Veronica whacked him on the arm with the handle of her riding crop.

“We will _all_ be in attendance,” Veronica said with a warning look at Mantle. “The Patronesses will not accept any less.”

“Until then!” Betty turned her horse and headed for home, already planning the gown she would wear for her debut. Although she would never admit it aloud, she was secretly considering how the Duke would react should he be in attendance.

Supper was a quiet affair, with only her mother for company. Her father had dined at his club, as he did more and more lately, and Charles never joined them if he could help it.

Therefore, the meal was a critique of Betty’s every move and a painful reminder of the expectations her family had for her. Associate with the right people, marry well, and above all else, do not cause a scandal.

Betty rolled her eyes at the same mantra she had been hearing since her 14th birthday, and asked to be excused for a rest before the festivities.

One more shot from her mother - “yes, you must get rid of those bags under your eyes, Elizabeth” - and she mercifully escaped to her room. Ringing the bell for her maid, they set to work on assembling the perfect outfit for her debut at the famous assembly rooms. 

* * *

 Walking up the famous grand staircase, Betty felt a shiver of excitement run up her spine. Thousands of young women had climbed these steps to reach their future, and now, it was her turn.

Her golden dancing slipper met the wooden floor of the ballroom and she was swept away.

The orchestra was playing a lively country dance and everywhere she looked, another new face or sight was waiting.

It was all too overwhelming until a familiar voice sounded behind her.

“You’re finally here, what are you doing standing in the doorway?” Veronica teased, taking her arm to lead her further into the crowd.

“Just taking a moment to appreciate it,” Betty replied, grabbing a glass of lemonade as they passed the refreshment table. “I want to remember this forever.”

“If you spend a full Season in London, you won’t ever forget these rooms. I wish I could forget with how often I have attended parties here,” Veronica said, irritation seeping into her tone.

As the only child of an Earl, her dowry was the envy of every woman searching for a husband, yet she had made it to the start of her second Season without a proposal. It was impolite to ask why, but with her reply, Betty knew there was something deeper there.

It was nothing but a passing thought to Veronica, as she returned to herself at the sight of Andrews striding towards them.

“Lord Andrews! How lovely of you to join us,” Veronica welcomed him.

“I would not miss this evening for the world,” he flirted, bowing over her hand. “I hope I have made it in time to secure a place on your dance cards this evening?”

“You are first in line,” Veronica offered with her dance card.

“Only because Mantle has yet to arrive,” he says with a quick scribble of his name.

Betty stifled a giggle at the exchange. If Andrews or Mantle didn’t offer for Veronica’s hand before the end of the Season, she would eat her new bonnet.

“Might I have a dance with you as well, Miss Cooper?” he asked quickly, as if suddenly remembering her presence. With a regal nod, she handed over her dance card.

“You may want to leave a few open for later. It seems many are fashionably late today,” he said conspiratorially before handing back the card. His grin left her confused as he worked his way to the card rooms where the men had gathered.

Brushing it off as a strange occurrence, Betty followed Veronica in circling the room, greeting acquaintances and filling her dance card. Something about the comment stuck with her, and three dances were left unfilled as the dancing began.

The first she danced with Kevin Keller, a well-connected merchant’s son whose waistcoat matched her dancing slippers. They shared a laugh and she asked the name of his tailor, knowing Charles would love the fine fabric and daring cut.

Lord Andrews came to claim her for the second dance, a quadrille which had them switching partners throughout the set. His running commentary kept her in high spirits, and she could scarcely catch her breath from laughing before he had her giggling once again.

He was safely delivering her to her seat next to Veronica when the room quieted, then came alive with whispers in the short break between songs.

“Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Veronica whispered.

Betty turned to follow her gaze and recognized the man entering the hall. The Duke’s appearance seemed to shock all, as the whispers spread even as couples took their places on the dance floor.

“Why is everyone gawking?” Betty asked Veronica in a low voice.

Veronica raised her fan to hide her mouth and spoke quickly and quietly. “He hasn’t stepped foot in this building for the past two Seasons though none know why. If he is here, it’s for one reason.”

Betty’s eyes were focused on the Duke, watching him so intently she missed the connotation in Veronica’s words.

His dark blue coat perfectly set off the black breeches and white stockings required for entrance at Almack’s; yet his black hair was mussed and his cravat looked to have been hastily tied. She noted with curiosity the bags under his eyes. He must have had the same restless night that she did.

Those dark eyes were scanning the room impatiently, before he was cornered by one of the Patronesses and dragged off to be shown about the room like a prized pet. Betty couldn’t help but to feel for him, after all she had experienced the same the night prior.

Fortunately, in a few short minutes Andrews finished his dance and followed the crowd’s cue to see the Duke locked in uncomfortable conversation with the youngest daughter of the Earl of York, who looked to be hanging onto his every sullen word.

Betty watched as Lord Andrews approached him and greeted him with a back slap and a grin. The Duke’s shock quickly turned to joy, and in a split second, she realized they were heading towards her and Veronica.

“How do I look?” she asked, frantically pinching her cheeks to bring a blush to the surface and draping her skirts gracefully around her.

Pulling a loose curl out to frame her face, Veronica gave her nod of approval. “I see he made an impression, and you will not get out of talking about it so easily! I expect you to call on me tomorrow and tell me everything.”

“Promise,” Betty whispered just as Andrews made his way to them, the Duke in tow.

“Jones, these are the ladies I wanted you to meet. Ladies, allow me to present Forsythe Jones, the Duke of Pendleton. Jones, this is Miss Veronica Lodge and Miss Elizabeth Cooper.”

The Duke offered a courtly bow as Veronica and Betty rose to curtsy.

“We are delighted to see you here this evening, Your Grace,” Veronica shared with a saucy grin. “Your prolonged absence has been noted.”

Betty could only gape at her friend’s forwardness. The Duke must have enjoyed it though, as a smile actually crossed his lips.

“I seem to have found the events of late vastly more interesting than before,” he remarked, a careful glance at Betty making his meaning clear. “The conversation is much more lively.”

“And the view more beautiful than ever,” Andrews offered with a quick bow to the ladies.

“The impertinence,” Veronica laughed, batting his arm with her fan. “The Duke will never be friends with us if you continue your nonsense.”

“On the contrary, I might be friends with you just for your nonsense,” Jones remarked. “I’ve been needing some good laughter in my life, especially laughter that comes at Lord Andrews’ expense.”

Betty couldn’t help but giggle at that, drawing the Duke’s attention back to her.

“My lady,” he said, “would you care to dance? I promise to reserve it on your dance card this time.

Betty ignored Veronica’s cat-who-got-the-cream grin and smiled politely. “I would be delighted, Your Grace.”

Extending a white-gloved hand out for her dance card, the Duke pencilled his name in once, then twice. Betty held her breath as he passed it back, their fingers meeting over the thin paper.

Offering her another bow, he turned on his heel and strode away.

She watched his long strides as Veronica chattered away in her ear, the pounding of her heart blocking out the exact words. The Duke of Pendleton wanted to dance, with her, in front of her mother, the ton and the almighty Patronesses. She wanted to squeal like a little girl but controlled herself to an excited tap of her feet.

Glancing down at her dance card, she counted up the spaces until the first bold stroke of the Duke’s name. Two more dances.

She couldn’t wait.

The two passed in a blur of congenial conversation with the second son of a viscount and a dandy she was quite sure was a friend of her brother’s. The partners were arranged, and she found herself facing him again, like the night before.

Reaching out to take her hand in his, the Duke offered her a kind smile. “I apologize for cutting in on our last dance. It was unbearably rude of me.”

As the music started, his hand came to rest at her waist and she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Since we are waltzing again, perhaps this can be a second chance?”

“That is ever so kind of you, Miss Cooper.”

“It is the least I can do if we are to be friends now, Your Grace,” she teased, and his hand tightened around hers for a moment.

“Andrews has said you are quite the rider,” he said, abruptly changing the subject.

“I enjoy a trot in Hyde Park every now and again,” she said slowly. “And you?”

“I prefer a gallop, but yes, I enjoy riding. Would you care to join me for a ride one day?”

She tripped over her feet and missed the next step in the dance at his matter-of-fact request. “I - I would like that, Your Grace.”

“Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps?”

“It will have to be early afternoon,” she explained. “We are attending the opera tomorrow evening.”

His lips quirked up. “I will be attending as well. Perhaps we can run into each other there.”

“Being seen out together twice in one day? People will talk,” she teased, false shock in her voice.

“Let them talk,” he said, pulling her closer. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met,” he murmured into her ear, and she gasped at the sensation and his words.

“Me as well,” she whispered, and his smile grew wider. “I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

“You can thank our red-headed friend for that,” he said with a nod to where Lord Andrews and Veronica were covertly glancing at them every few seconds. “A chance meeting this afternoon meant he told me your advice and offered me some of his own in return.”

“What might that have been?” she asked, and he shook his head with that same self-assured grin.

“Nothing I didn’t already know.”

Betty felt her bottom lip stick out in a very unladylike pout and he barked out a laugh.

“All in good time, Miss Cooper,” he said, releasing her as the dance came to a close. Bowing over her hand, he smiled brightly. “I wish I could remain with you, but I should greet some acquaintances before our second dance later.”

“Until then,” she replied, smile matching his.

She nearly floated back to her friends, Veronica waiting to hand her a glass of the weak lemonade.

“What a fantastic picture you made, Betty! You didn’t seem to stop smiling the entire dance.” Veronica’s hands fluttered with excitement as she spoke. “And the Duke as well! He always seems so brooding and he was actually laughing with you!”

“He’s not as terrible as the ton makes him out to be. We actually had a pleasant conversation and he asked me to ride with him tomorrow,” Betty said, cheeks flushing at the thought of spending more time with him.

Veronica’s jaw fell in surprise. “Let me know when to start planning your wedding.”

She gasped at the thought. “Just for riding in the park? Veronica, be serious.”

“I am being serious!” Glancing around for any listening ears, Veronica lowered her voice. “I told you about Lady Topaz. He hasn’t been seen courting or even spending time with a woman since then, yet now he’s dancing with you, inviting you riding, and who knows what else.”

“He will be at the opera in the evening,” Betty said softly.

“And the opera! Even more visible! I’m telling you, as my dearest friend, be careful.”

Weighing Veronica’s words, the gossip among the ton, and the lack of information from the Duke himself, her decision should have been simple.

However, when he returned to claim her for their second dance, she once again found herself lost in his kind smile and dedicated interest in hearing her thoughts.

As they danced, she realized that her heart had softened to the quiet man who carefully guarded himself and bore the disrespect of the ton for it.

She only hoped she wouldn’t regret trusting him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic got nominated for a Bughead Fanfiction Award so I figured it was time for an update... three months later. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Elizabeth awoke to the cheery trill of birdsong the next morning. Although the dancing had continued well into the night, the excitement of seeing the Duke again today had her eyes springing open as soon as the sun broke the rooftops of the homes across the street.

As the night went on, she had fallen more and more for his sharp wit and dry humor. While many carried on their conversations quietly in corners, their group had laughed uproariously at every joke and tease, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

And the Duke - oh, the Duke! He had been the very picture of a doting courtier, fetching her lemonade when her throat dried, leading her to a seat when she complained of her feet hurting, and keeping her apprised of the dirty secrets of the matrons and gentlemen that turned their noses up at their little gang.

Yes, she thought to herself as she stretched her muscles from their sleeping position, he had changed since their first encounter, and their newfound closeness had her mind running off to a possible future together.

Her father would be open to his suit, as he didn’t hold with the unfounded gossip her mother so enjoyed. Charles would threaten to return to town to scare him off, and Polly would be too busy fighting with Lady Blossom to care. Betty could already imagine the walks in the park, the evenings at dances and suppers, the musicales and operas they would attend together. 

She was shaken from her vision as her lady’s maid entered with her morning tea tray. Seeing the curtains already thrown open and her mistress wide awake, she set the tray down and bowed out of the room with a quick curtsey.

Ever since Polly had gone to Thornhill and taken their shared maid with her, Betty had been making do with a young girl the housekeeper had recommended. With the departure of her sister and her maid, Betty was running short on confidantes who would revel in this moment with her. Rising to prepare her tea, she contemplated calling on Veronica later that day for some advice and a little bit of gossip. 

This was, of course, if the Duke did not arrive first. 

She took a seat in the window with her tea and watched the early morning deliveries to the townhouses down the road, her mind in another home miles away, wondering at his morning routine. Did he take coffee or tea? Did he prefer to linger in bed with the morning post, or start his day with vigorous exercise?

The inappropriate thought of the Duke sweating and shirtless entered her mind unbidden, and she immediately shook it away. Proper young ladies did not think of such things. 

Sipping her tea, she steered her mind back to a more appropriate and much more pressing topic: whatever she would wear riding and to the opera this evening.

She rose from the window seat and rang to bring the maid back to help her dress for the day.

Clad in a pale yellow muslin, Betty descended to breakfast to find her father ensconced in the morning room, her mother nowhere in sight. She said a silent prayer of gratitude for finding her father alone. 

Her mother had seen her interactions with the Duke the evening prior, and had only offered her a word of caution during the carriage ride home. It was not the best sign of approval, but it was better than outright forbidding her to speak with him. Still, Betty preferred to broach the subject with her father without her mother’s influence guiding the conversation.

“Good morning, Papa,” she greeted him, taking her seat and immediately receiving her usual morning toast.

“You’re up early,” he remarked from behind his paper.

“I had something important to speak to you about and I just couldn’t wait to share any longer.”

This caught his attention, and the paper dipped to below his nose. Taking in the smile on her face, he carefully folded up the paper and set it aside. 

“And what is so important that it interrupts the news of the day?”

Betty turned in her seat to face her father at the head of the table. “I will have a gentleman caller today, who wishes to take me riding.”

Her father’s expression was not exactly one of surprise, but rather a calm resignation. “And I suppose you would like me to meet this gentleman and keep him from speaking to your mother?”

“I don’t want her to drive him off with her incessant questioning and gossip,” Betty explained, already sensing her father’s agreement. “You’ll like him, Papa. He’s very kind, and witty to boot.”

“Does this gentleman have a name?” he asked, and Betty nodded sheepishly.

“He is the Duke of Pendleton.”

Her father’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he paged through the numerous gentlemen of the peerage and the House of Lords. After a moment, his eyes came back down and he nodded his head. 

“Yes, I know of him. He has some damned modern ideas about the poor and the working men, but he has no scandal attached to his name, apart from the...nevermind.” 

Her heart pounded in her ears. Sensing a weakness, she dove in headfirst. “What is it? Anything I should know?” 

He shook his head and picked up the paper again. “No matter. I’ll speak to your Duke and keep him far from your mother.”

“He’s not my Duke,” Betty protested weakly, turning over her father’s earlier words in her mind as he returned to his paper and she prepared her toast. First Veronica’s warnings, and now her father? There was something hidden in the Duke’s life, and she was determined to find out what it was.

After breakfast, Betty passed a few hours in the library paging through Miss Austen’s newest novel and getting lost in wild theories about what had happened to mire the Duke in scandal. An engagement gone wrong? A secret duel? Each idea was crazier than the last, and she was thrilled when the clock chimed the noon hour, her signal to start preparing to receive social calls.

She took the steps two at a time as she rushed upstairs to change into her riding habit. Protocol dictated that as a newer acquaintance, the Duke would arrive early, so she rushed the maid through the process of getting ready. Her knee bounced with nervous energy as her hair was tied up to properly display her hat, and she had to remind herself to keep still to avoid getting stuck with a hairpin.

Once her maid had finally completed her hair, she sprang from her seat and rushed to the sitting room, fluffing pillows and trying multiple seats to determine which would place her in the perfect lighting for the Duke’s entry.

She caught a glance of herself in the mirror over the fire, her cheeks pink and eyes bright with excitement, hair already beginning to come enchantingly loose around her ears. She grinned at the mirror and sat on the settee with her novel. He was going to be blown away.

Two chapters read and not retained later, the brass knocker on the front door echoed through the house. Betty’s ears perked up as two low voices conversed in the hallway. She had already informed the butler that she would receive the Duke, so she sat and waited for the announcement.

“The Duke of Pendleton,” Betty heard as the Duke swept into the room, dressed again in black with a smart top hat in his hand. He bowed at the doorway and she rose to offer a polite curtsey.

“Please, take a seat, Your Grace. Shall I ring for tea?” she asked, returning to the settee. 

“I had hoped we could go for our ride before the park filled with everyone else who had the same idea,” he said, rather forwardly by the standards of propriety. Generally, they would have tea and brief conversation before broaching the subject of a ride.

Betty knew her mother was only a few rooms away, however, and welcomed the small rebellion if it meant not having to subject the Duke to Lady Cooper’s judgemental gaze.

“That is an excellent idea,” she said as she rang the bell. “I will collect my things and we can be off.”

The Duke waited patiently in the foyer as she collected her coat, reticule, and riding crop from her maid. The sun shone brightly on them as they walked to the stables, trading light conversation as one of the footmen followed behind them. 

Propriety also called for their ride to be chaperoned, in this case by a bored-looking groom who followed them to Hyde Park. After a short round of the grounds to see if any of their acquaintances were in sight, they left their horses with the groom and wandered over to take a turn by the Serpentine.

The Duke offered her his arm and Betty took it, smiling in glee.

“Thank you for offering to take me riding today,” she started. “It’s always lovely to enjoy London’s sunshine since we get so little of it.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “However, if I may be so bold, it is not as lovely as your smile.”

“You flatter me,” she said softly, “with the compliment and with your company. I must admit, I have not spent time alone with gentlemen, but if you are all this complimentary I might start doing it more often!” 

The Duke smirked, obviously proud he had gotten a response from her. “I can’t say they are all as good at it as me. I hope I surpass them all, but all that matters to me is that I have your good opinion.”

Her mouth was agape as he stated his thoughts clearly. “You are too forward, sir!” she cried, sounding more like her mother than she wished to. 

“I know you’ve heard the rumors about me, after your reaction that first night we met. Something draws me to you though, Miss Cooper, and I could not bear it if you held ill thoughts about me.”

Gathering her thoughts, Betty took a deep breath before speaking. “If I may be frank, I have heard some disheartening things, but I’m willing to overlook them based on how I have judged your character to be so far. You’ve shown yourself to be a gentleman, and I would like to learn more about you for myself.”

He stopped their slow stroll and turned to face her. Seeing nothing but truth in her eyes, a wide grin split his face. 

“You have no idea how pleased I am to hear that,” he said, grasping her hand in his. “Now I can ask...may I escort you to the opera this evening?”

“You may,” she agreed, and pulled him back towards their horses. “Now that I have such an important escort, I have to go home and pick out an appropriate gown!”

Their laughter carried them back to their chaperone. After escorting them home, the Duke bid her farewell and promised to be back in time to escort her and her parents to the opera house.

The Royal Opera House was a short carriage ride from Betty’s home, but the Duke’s close proximity made the distance seem endless. He was seated across from her in the carriage and with particularly large potholes, their knees would knock together and he would glance up at her to offer a quick grin before returning to his conversation with her father. 

Meanwhile, Betty’s mother tried to hide her disdain for the man currently sharing their carriage. Betty could tell from the upturned tilt of her head, as if she was trying to look down her nose at him, and her silence during the ride. Out of their entire family, Lady Cooper was the fondest of opera, and would generally spend every ride to the performance sharing things she had heard about the performers, the story of the opera, and the innovative changes being made to the sets and costumes.

The silence was almost blissful and Betty said a secret thank you to the Duke for stemming the flow of commentary. Now, she just needed to make her mother see he was actually a good person and - dare she say it - a good match. 

“Elizabeth?”

Her eyes snapped to her father. 

“I asked if you would be joining us in our box this evening.” She glanced questioningly between the two men.

“My family keeps a box as well and I believe Miss Lodge and Lord Andrews will be joining me if you wish to come along,” the Duke clarified. 

“If it is not too much of an imposition…” Betty started, the Duke already shaking his head in the negative, “I would be delighted to join you.”

“That’s settled then,” her father responded happily, ignoring the look of shock on her mother’s face. As the carriage came to a halt and the door swung open, noise and light pouring in, the men climbed out of the carriage leaving just enough time for Betty’s mother to grab her arm.

“Elizabeth, be careful about that man. We don’t know his intentions,” she whispered frantically.

Sighing, Betty nodded her head. Fighting it would only lead to another lecture. Thankfully, she was saved by her father poking his head into the carriage. 

“Ready, everyone?” he asked, offering his hand to her mother. Taking it, she climbed gracefully down from the high seat and swept past the Duke, into the opera house.

Betty simply rolled her eyes at her mother’s dramatics. As she rose to exit the carriage, the Duke’s hand reached up and she placed her hand gently in his, the warmth of his fingers sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. His thumb reached up to rub the back of her hand, and they shared a quiet smile, lingering in the moment.

The groom standing nearby cleared his throat and Betty snatched her hand away, a slight blush tinting her cheeks. The Duke’s smile turned bashful and he offered her his arm to lead her inside.

They were quickly swept up in the crush mingling in the hall. Betty found herself on the end of some curious glances, darting between her and the Duke before the watcher would turn to their companion and share a whisper. After a few minutes of the gawking, the sight of Veronica and Lord Andrews pushing their way through the crowd was a welcome relief.

They barely had time to share greetings before the ushers were calling them to take their seats for the performance. The Duke led them up the grand staircase and through a side hallway to his box two sections back from the royal box, in a perfect position to see and be seen by the members of the ton. 

Veronica was chattering in her ear about a dinner party at the Mantle home the following evening as Betty took the seat offered by the Duke. 

“You must come, dearest, you and the Duke! I’m sure Mr. Mantle would love to have you both in attendance,” Veronica pleaded.

“The Mantles do have a rather fine library, or so I’ve heard,” the Duke chimed in, and Betty’s eyes widened in glee.

“Then I should love nothing more! Our library here in Town is so small compared to the one in the country, and it’s mostly made up of Papa’s dusty old books and my elder sister’s fashion plates. I do so love having new things to read but the shops don’t seem to have -” she trailed off, realizing the group had fallen silent at her little speech.

“I suppose we shall all have to see this incredible library, if Miss Cooper has such a strong reaction to it,” Lord Andrews teased, and she fixed her gaze on the stage to avoid the embarrassment of speaking out of turn. Her mother would have a fit if she knew what a bluestocking her daughter had shown herself to be.

The orchestra began its preparations and the group quieted. Before the curtain rose, the Duke leaned over and placed his hand over Betty’s in her lap.

“I’m glad to hear we share the same love of books,” he murmured. “Perhaps one day I can show you the library at Pendleton. My grandfather put many years of work into amassing one of England’s finest collections, and I must admit I have not yet explored it as fully as I should.”

“I would like that, Your Grace,” she whispered back, keeping her gaze on the stage. 

“Unfortunately we will have to make do with the Mantle library for tomorrow evening,” he said softly, finally turning his attention to the stage but leaving his hand on hers. “Although your presence will surely brighten the experience.”

As the tenor began his chorus, Betty allowed herself a small giggle of excitement. Tomorrow would be an incredible evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jughead, probably: "I'll get that bitch a library. Bitches love libraries."
> 
> Next chapter: the moment you've all been waiting for.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready, because it's about to go down.

Elizabeth spent the day following the opera resting at home and preparing for the evening ahead. The opera had been entertaining and humorous, but her focus throughout remained on the Duke’s hand on hers. Following the performance, he had escorted her out to her parent’s carriage and seen her off with a promise to meet her at the Mantles the following evening and a gentle kiss to her hand.

Only the presence of her parents had kept her from giggling like a schoolgirl during the ride home. She had fallen asleep with a smile on her face, dreaming about how those lips might feel pressed to hers. 

She rose late and broke her fast in her room, trying and failing to read a few more chapters of Miss Austen’s novel. Her eyes kept flickering to the clock, the minutes stretching into hours. Shortly after tea, her mother’s maid delivered the message that her parents would not be attending the dinner.

“Whyever not?” she asked, partly out of curiosity and partly out of suspicion. She would not put it past her mother to invent some reason to keep her daughter away from her friends and those she considered bad influences.

“Your mother has a touch of the headache, but your father has granted you permission to attend. He will be taking dinner at his club.” With a slight bow, she backed out of the room, most likely off to fetch her mother’s headache powder.

Betty knew her mother’s sudden illness was most likely a ruse to avoid seeing the Duke again, but with her father’s permission to go alone, she wouldn’t question it. She allowed herself a silent moment of joy for an evening alone with her friends away from her mother’s judging gaze and rang for her maid. 

Now that her mother would be staying behind, she had the perfect gown to wear.

Before Polly had married, the sisters had spent a day in London shopping for her trousseau and Polly had used the excess pin money their father had given her to purchase a new gown for Betty. 

“Consider it my apology gift for leaving you alone with Mother and Papa,” Polly had said before leading her into the modiste with a drawing from a fashion plate in her had. “Ensure you keep it a secret from Mother as I don’t believe she would approve.”

As Betty pulled it from her dresser, she was reminded exactly why she was instructed to keep it a secret. Designed in the French style, it clung to her curves and showed more of her skin than was entirely proper. Yes, this would be perfect for dinner - and for the Duke.

Her maid gasped in awe as the dress was revealed. “The duke shan’t be able to keep his eyes off of you this evening!”

“Impertinence!” Betty cried with a laugh, shaking out the dress and reaching for the matching slippers to wear with it. “Can you take this to be pressed? Be sure that my mother does not see you.”

The maid rushed off to see it done, with a wink and a promise to keep her mother’s nosy servants away. Betty sat at her vanity and began the routine of getting ready, taking her small collection of cosmetics to add a soft layer of powder to lessen the shine of her cheeks and a small amount of lip color. By the time she had completed the application and selected her jewelry, her maid had returned with the gown.

As she stood in front of the mirror while the maid helped her into her gown, she took in the sparkle in her eye and the rosy blush that had nothing to do with the cosmetics. The thrill of an evening with the Duke gave her a natural flush, the perfect accompaniment to her pale pink gown. The necklace rested just on her breastbone, drawing attention to the low neckline. 

Her maid offered her an embroidered wrapper, which she took gratefully. No need to get caught by the butler and locked in the house for the evening before she had even tasted fresh air. Tiptoeing into the hallway, she peeked out to ensure no one was in sight.

Finding it empty, she whispered goodbye to her maid and crept down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky third step. The foyer was clear and it was short work to open the door a crack and slide outside to where the carriage was waiting to take her to the Mantle home.

It was a short ride, but the time with nothing else to distract her saw her thoughts inevitably drifting back to the Duke and his promise of the previous evening to show her the library at Pendleton. He had obviously been thinking about the future. Would they be courting following this dinner? Did he have grander plans in mind?

Of course, she could not push aside the whispers of the crowd. There were too many rumors floating around for her to fully give herself to the Duke without receiving some answers. If he were to begin courting her, she would need to learn the truth. 

With that thought fixed in her mind, the carriage pulled to a stop in front of a well-lit townhouse. The groom assisted her down from the carriage and she strode confidently to the front door and pounded the brass knocker, bolstered by her newfound conviction. It took only a moment for the butler to welcome her in and take her wrapper before ushering her to the parlor.

The room was filled to the brim with the younger members of the ton, sons and daughters of the leaders of the land and among them, some of the friends she had made during the first few weeks of the Season. She waved to Josie McCoy and Kevin Keller conversing in the corner and started around the room to find Veronica, Lord Andrews or the Duke.

A turn about the room did not reveal any of them, but she did observe their host conversing in the corner with a servant. The manners ingrained in her by her mother led her to make her way over to thank him for the invitation and possibly wrangle an offer to visit the library.

“Mr. Mantle! It’s ever so kind of you to allow me to join you for the evening’s festivities,” she greeted him, a bright smile fixed on her face. 

“Any friend of Miss Lodge is a friend of mine,” he said with a bow. “She always knows the most entertaining people.”

“Doesn’t she though? She has introduced me to so many people this season, like yourself and Lord Andrews.”

His smile dimmed a bit at the mention of Andrews’s name. “I greatly enjoy the company of Miss Lodge and her many friends, but I do have to admit Lord Andrews is an unfortunate side effect.”

Betty coughed lightly, not knowing how to respond to what was obviously petty jealousy between the two men. She needed a subject change or a quick escape.

“When do you suppose she will be arriving? No doubt she wants to make a grand entrance,” Betty asked. 

“I would expect nothing less!” He leaned in closer and his grin turned devilish. “Last Season, she arrived as a masked ball just as they were doing the unmasking. Everyone was watching the top of the stairs for the master of ceremonies to make the announcement, when she swept in behind him, tore off her mask and told the crowd she did not want to hide her beautiful face from them for even a minute!”

He guffawed and she giggled, their shared laughter easing the tension enough for her to ask about the library.

“I hear you have a fine library here, Mr. Mantle. I find it so hard to local entertaining novels in town, they always seem to be snatched up by others before I can even get to the bookshop!”

“My mother has put years of effort into building up our library here,” he said with a hint of fondness. “Perhaps after dinner, the party can adjourn to the library and you can explore. You may even be able to borrow a few, provided you bring Miss Lodge with you when you return them.”

“You rascal!” she said with a wry grin. “That sounds lovely. The tour and the offer of books, although I make no promises on Miss Lodge’s behalf.”

Their conversation was interrupted as Josie came to claim Mr. Mantle for an introduction to her friends. With a quick bow to Betty, he was off again and Betty was left to wander the room to find another conversation partner.

Admiring the artwork gracing the walls, she slowly rounded the room, peeking towards the doorway for any arriving guests. She stopped in front of a country landscape and relished in the rich colors of the sunset and the grass before a voice from behind her spoke out.

“I imagine that must be Mantle’s estate in the Lake District,” the Duke said into her ear. “I haven’t seen it in person, but many acquaintances of mine who have traveled there say it is some of the most beautiful scenery in England. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Must you tease me so, Your Grace?” she asked in jest.

“Every word out of my mouth is nothing but the truth, Miss Cooper,” he offered with a small bow. 

Betty ducked her head shyly at the gesture and turned back to the painting. “So tell me truthfully, do you have such a strong acquaintance with Mr. Mantle as to know his holdings and their locations?”

“I find it shocking that you have not studied your Debrett’s Peerage as thoroughly as I have. Surely young ladies of proper breeding should be familiar with it?”

As she stared at the skyline of the painting, admiring this place she would probably never see, her answer came out more wistful than she had intended. “I much prefer to read stories of far off lands, entertaining characters, and history long past than study the families of England’s peerage. I have the rest of my life after marriage to think on that.”

“Perhaps the library here has some of those stories,” he murmured. “Were you able to see it yet?”

“Mr. Mantle has offered to take the party through after dinner. Will you join us?”

“Nothing would please me more.”

As the conversations carried on around them, they stood quietly in front of the painting. Betty was scrambling for something else to say when they were accosted by Veronica. 

“There you two are!” she cried. “I have so many people I want to introduce you to before dinner.”

With that, they were off on a merry lap through the room. Many of the men recognized the Duke and offered him kind greetings, while Betty was an unknown object. Women observed her with suspicion, seeing her position close to the Duke and drawing their own conclusions. Veronica’s introductions helped relax some, but Betty almost cheered in relief when they were called into dinner.

The Duke offered her his arm and she gladly took it before he guided her to a seat halfway down the table. He placed himself to her left and Veronica took the seat on her other side, joined by Lord Andrews. Poor Mr. Mantle sat at the head of the table as the host and cast dark glares down the table at Andrews.

As the first course was served, the Duke leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Has Lord Andrews done something to upset Mr. Mantle?”

“Nothing to concern you.” He turned his head to look at her fully and she smiled sweetly. “Just a little competition between them.”

“May I enquire as to the prize?” he asked.

She tilted her head to the side and gestured back towards Veronica. The Duke’s confusion showed clearly for a moment, then his eyes widened with a sudden realization.

He cleared his throat. “I see.” He turned back to his food and Betty turned to engage Veronica in a conversation about her thoughts on the prior night’s opera.

As the evening wore on, Betty found herself enchanted with the meal and the company. The food had been divine, her conversation with Veronica a great opportunity to catch up on the news of the day, and the Duke’s presence alongside her showed her more of his character than she could ever have hoped to learn during chaperoned strolls and dances. 

His wry observations about the individuals in the room were fascinating, showing his knowledge of the quiet politics without stepping over into gossip. He had her in stitches with the tale of a man in their party tonight and how he had fallen asleep during a session, snores echoing throughout the Parliament chambers. 

He had told her about his home in Pendleton and the grand gardens planted by his grandmother, his favorite novels, and the initiative he was taking on in the House of Lords to develop low-cost housing for the poor and working families in London’s slums. In turn, she told him about growing up with two rambunctious older siblings, her favorite spot to draw in Hyde Park, and her most fervent dream to travel the continent and visit places she only read about in books. 

He had been a truly engaging and attentive dinner companion, and Betty found herself wishing the meal had been longer as a magnificent buttered tart was placed down for dessert. 

When the time came for the ladies to adjourn to the drawing-room, he rose to help her from her seat and bowed over her hand. 

“If only I could join you and the ladies. I loathe port and my valet can never get the stench of cigars out of my dinner jackets,” he joked. 

“Soon enough, Your Grace. We ladies must have some time to gossip about the horrible table manners of our dinner companions.” she said with a wink.

“You wound me, Miss Cooper, but I will endure as long as I have the warmth of your smile to keep me company,” he vowed, hand over his heart in a mockery of the poet.

She blessed him with that smile and a teasing wrinkle of her nose as she followed the ladies out to the drawing-room. The chittering of the group rang through the hall and she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the next hour of sitting idly and feigning interest in the conversation.

After ten minutes, she quickly excused herself under the guise of visiting the retiring room and freshening up. She could not bear the thought of spending the next hour embroidering and gossiping about people she didn’t know and would never meet.

Once she made it to the retiring room, she asked the maid set to assist the ladies for directions to the library. She felt a bit guilty about hiding away from the party and snooping around their host’s home, but the idea of waiting hours to explore the library was too much to consider. 

Following the maid’s instructions back into the main hall, she found the heavy oak door and swung it open, gasping at the room lined with books. Yes, this would be a fine way to spend the evening. 

She allowed herself a moment of pure glee before setting out to find an engaging novel or detailed history to read. Fingers skipping over new and familiar titles, she circled the room, sometimes stopping to check an author’s name or read the first page. Maria Edgeworth’s name on a novel caught her eye and she picked up Castle Rackrent from the shelf. 

Flipping past the first blank pages, she started to read, working her way to a low chair situated near the candelabra and taking a seat to lose herself in the story.

As she read about Sir Murtagh Rackrent’s many court cases, the click of the door handle lifted her gaze from the book to the doorway. 

“Your Grace,” she greeted with surprise, rising to curtsey. 

He shook his head and waved her off. “I needed to get away from the men and the cigars for a moment. The smoke makes my head swim.”

“I see. Perhaps I should leave you then -” she said, closing the book and trying to locate its place on the shelf. 

“No, please don’t leave on my account. I’ll go,” he said, turning back to the door.

She hesitated, and a little voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother told her this was a terrible idea, but she charged ahead anyway.

“I suppose it would be fine, for a moment,” she murmured, the voice screaming out that no, it would not be fine, that her reputation would be ruined should anyone find out. 

The Duke stopped, then closed the door fully and joined her at the bookshelf. 

“How is the collection?” he inquired. 

“Expansive, just as we were told. I saw new books from several favorite authors and some authors I had never seen before.”

“I’m pleased you found something to pass the time.”

“I much prefer reading to embroidery, especially when the embroidery is only to give some semblance of respectability to idle gossip,” she said.

“We may have more in common than I ever realized,” he teased.

Only then did she realize how close he was, his shallow breaths fluttering the loose strands of hair at the nape of her neck. She reached up to replace her novel and as her hand came down, her fingers brushed his. He clutched them tightly, breath coming smoother and steadier as the seconds ticked on. 

“Miss Cooper, I wanted to ask you -” he paused, and took a deep breath. Taking both her hands in his, he stepped impossibly closer.

“Yes?” she asked, lifting her gaze to his.

“I hoped that you would -” he started, before the doors to the library swung wide and the entire party burst into the room. 

Their laughter and noise faded quickly when they realized the scene they had stumbled upon.

Betty’s eyes shot up to the Duke’s and she watched his jaw clench and retract, processing all that had happened in the span of a split second. This was what her mother feared, her daughter ruined with no prospect for the future. Her mind jumped from the gossip that would spread, to the shame it would bring her parents, to her future cast out from polite society and married off to some dusty old lord in Scotland. 

Her breaths came heavy and quick, panic taking over and freezing her in place. If she was lucky, she would at least be able to take her books and her favorite horse. She may be able to write to Polly and Charles, but she would not be able to visit and meet any future nieces and nephews. The friendships she had made over the past few weeks would be gone forever, and she would never see the Duke again. 

He dropped his hands and stepped away from her, and Betty felt her heart shatter. 

“I shall secure a special license and come speak to your father in the morning unless you would prefer to away to Gretna Green tonight,” he muttered, eyes bouncing back and forth between her and the still silent crowd. 

Her frozen mind could barely process the words. He was planning on marrying her? The younger daughter of a lowly baron without connections or incredible fortune? She then threw the thought away as quickly as it came. He had plans, and any further scandal attached to his name would mean the end of any respectability he had managed to claw back. 

This wasn’t love or tender feelings. It was salvaging both of their reputations.

“Tomorrow - tomorrow should be fine,” she whispered, the heavy realizations of the past moments settling upon her shoulders like a cloak.

He nodded and turned to the group. 

“Miss Cooper and I are pleased to announce our engagement. We look forward to welcoming you all to a wedding breakfast soon.”

With that announcement, he stormed away, leaving loud whispers and a shocked Betty in his wake. 


End file.
